


warmth

by perfect_little_fool



Series: Stydia Fics Inspired by 30 Day OTP Challenge [6]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: 3+1, Dorks in Love, F/M, Fluff, Jacket Stealing, Kissing, S5 Canon Compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-07
Updated: 2017-02-07
Packaged: 2018-09-22 17:40:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9618281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/perfect_little_fool/pseuds/perfect_little_fool
Summary: Three times Lydia wears Stiles' jacket without meaning to, and the one time she really, really does. He's okay with it.(or, the 3+1 that I wrote to make myself feel better before we BECAME CANON)





	

**Author's Note:**

> LIFE IS GOOD, MY LOSER CHILDREN ARE IN LOVE, AND MY ENTIRE EXISTENCE IS FINALLY COMPLETE. 
> 
> anyway: day 6, wearing each other's clothes

The first time it was an accident. 

Lydia had just bought a new jacket, one that was a dark red. More maroon than anything. She swears up and down it was on the clearance rack, but the pack knew that she indulged a little too much and paid full price for it. It was a soft leather, biker babe status, and complimented her strawberry hair well. 

And Stiles thought she looked fucking hot in it. 

The pack had been finishing up studying in the library, Malia and Scott already standing up after gathering their scattered belongings. Stiles was taking his time however, waiting to see if it would be okay for him to walk Lydia to her car. But she was also taking her time, scribbling the last of her notes while Liam chatted away in Stiles’ ear about Hayden-this and Hayden-that. 

A few moments later she was finally closing her textbook, tucking her pen in the spine of her spiral notebook as she lets out a little huff. “I hate finals,” she declares. 

Scott laughs while giving his infamous grin. “No you don’t. You thrive off of them.”

Lydia wrinkles her nose. “They aren’t much of a challenge.”

“Not all of us can recite the periodic table off the top of our heads, Lyds,” Liam points out, stuffing his own mess of papers into his backpack. He slings it over his shoulder as the older girl rolls her eyes, organizing her own schoolwork neatly. 

“It’s just memorization,” she says for the millionth time in four years. Stiles chuckles, remembering back when she liked to pretend she didn’t even know what Sulfur was. “It’s also a matter of discipline. Which I know you lack,” she teases Liam, bumping her eyebrows toward the silhouette of Hayden waiting outside the library doors, the gleam of sweat on her forehead more than obvious from her hard workout at soccer practice. 

Liam frowns. “That was mean.”

Stiles smirks, trying to ignore his bouncy leg that was impatient to get up and walk Lydia to the parking lot. “She’s got a point.”

He just huffs before bidding a hasty goodbye. Malia and Scott do the same, the latter boy noticing Stiles’ itchy demeanor. They leave the last two at the library table, Stiles standing up to finish packing his notes away. 

“You going home for the night?” he questions, noting how it’s a Friday and the group had nothing planned. 

“Mom and I are ordering in and having movie night,” Lydia smiles, finally getting to her feet after clicking her bag closed. She absentmindedly grabs the dark jacket in her peripherals, starting to slide her arms into it. “She claims she deserves it since she never gets to see me.”

There isn’t an answer from the boy to her right so she turns to see if he’s even still there. She stops at his confused look, his eyes a tad wider than usual—which is a stretch, she knows—her head cocking to the side when he still doesn’t say anything. “Stiles?” she asks, smoothing her hands down her clothed sides. “You okay?”

He has to clear his throat to answer, raking a hand back through his messy hair. “Uhm, yeah, uh, Lyds…” he nods toward her torso. “You grabbed the wrong jacket.”

She scrunches her brows and glances down, taking a full second to realize she had indeed grabbed the wrong jacket. It wasn’t even leather that was on her body—it was Stiles’ dark red soft hoodie that she was wearing, the always visible white strings laying over her chest. “Oh,” she gasps out, immediately sliding it off her shoulders and tossing it to him like it was hot metal. “Sorry.”

They stand there for a second, just looking at each other. 

“It’s…it’s okay,” he smiles, unsure what the weird clenching was in his stomach. “Can I…can I walk you to your car?”

Lydia’s face felt like it was burning at one-thousand degrees, but she grabs her own, real, leather jacket and nods her head. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

-

The second time she realizes it’s just turning into a weird happenstance.

Derek was back in town from South America, his handsome face tan and his too-white smile even more blinding than before. Everyone was happy to see him and happy to be back in the old stomping grounds at his spacious apartment. Braeden had insisted on the get-together, claiming that even though he liked to deny it, Derek missed them all a whole hell of a lot. 

The night was winding down after everyone had had their fill of pizza, tossing stories back and forth to fill each other in on their lives since Derek moved to be with Cora. Scott was wrapping up a tale of the werewolf that had blown through Beacon Hills a few months back.

“I’m cold,” Lydia pouts, her pink bottom lip puffing out. 

Stiles chuckles from his spot beside her on the floor, nudging at her calf with his elbow. “Go get your jacket, dummy.”

She turns her pout into a raspberry blown his way, the smile on his face just getting bigger, before she gets to her feet and walks to the pile of jackets by the giant garage door. As she goes she hears her phone buzz, sliding the device out from her back pocket. Thankfully it was an email from a counselor at one of the universities she’s been looking into, her phone flicking the notification to bring it to full screen. She reads as she grabs, hooking onto the first dark red jacket she sees. 

Lydia uses one hand to flick through the message while the other hand slides one arm into the coat, turning around to walk back toward her seat on the couch. It wasn’t until she was back, standing in front of Stiles, that she puts her phone away after reading through orientation details, and slides her other arm in so it was encompassing her body. She lets out a little sigh and plops onto the couch, already nice and warm. 

“Uhm,” she hears from below, her head moving at Stiles’ noise. 

“Hm?” she hums, her brows dipping low over the crease of her eyes.

She could tell he was holding in a laugh, the tips of his ears tinted red. “Lydia, you’re wearing my jacket,” he says without conviction, pointing at one of the sleeves. Her eyes widen, finally noticing that the jacket she had put on was too big and too soft to be her leather one. And, just to confirm, when she looks down at her body, she is met with the sight of his hoodie. 

“Oh, fuck, sorry,” she mumbles, face going hot and red again as she hides it behind her arms. 

He grins, tapping at her knee with his knuckles. “Damn, I should just give it to you as a birthday present, huh?” he jokes, his heart pounding at the sight of her in his clothes once more. 

She sticks her tongue out, not hearing the heat behind his words. “Maybe you shouldn’t have a jacket so close in color to mine.” Then she returns to her feet and goes back to the pile by the door, Stiles’ _it’s okay you can keep it on_ dying on his lips as she does.

-

By the third time she’s starting to think that something weird is going on with her.

It was a cold night in November, the bleachers under their bums only making the teens shiver more. Liam on the other hand was more than thrilled to be there, bouncing up and down and getting to his feet in excitement any time Hayden so much as jogged across the field. When the pack agreed to attend her soccer game for the evening, they didn’t realize they were also signing up for a show of Liam making an absolute fool out of himself.

“Yaaaaaas, Hayden!” he screams, shaking his hips while throwing his arms all around. The beanie on his head bops back and forth as his head twists about. Lydia lets out a laugh. 

“If only he got this enthused about our games,” Scott quips with a grin. 

Stiles smirks, shoving his hands deeper into his peacoat. “If only he got this enthused about anything.”

Liam flips them both the bird before bringing his hands together to clap loudly. “If only you guys would get off my back.”

Lydia chuckles along with the rest of them before glancing down at Stiles’ shaky leg, the normal anxious tick of his grabbing her attention. She furrows her brows at the red hoodie slung over his knee, the usual article of clothing not adorning his body. She juts her chin towards it as she asks, “Is that for extra warmth?”

He glances down, his mouth opening, then closing, then opening again. “Yeah, something like that.” There was a moment of silence where she just kept looking at him before he clears throat. “It was a habit, leaving the house with it. Whatever.”

She raises her brows but doesn’t say anything, just turning to look back to the field. 

After another goal (not from Hayden, even though Liam claims she set them up for it), half time is called and the gang starts to get up and stretch. “I gotta go grab my scarf,” Stiles releases on an exhale, tossing his jacket back behind him onto the bleacher. “Be right back.” His keys jangle from his fingertips as he clambers down the steps toward the grass, Lydia huddling closer into her own leather jacket that she wished brought her more warmth. 

Malia on her other side bumps their legs together. “I would be kicking ass right now if I were out there.”

The redhead gives a small smile. “Oh, I know. But you’d have to keep those claws at bay.”

The other girl grimaces, crossing her long legs at the ankle. “That’s a tall order.”

Both of them share a giggle as Lydia leans her gloved hand back against the empty spot Stiles had vacated, her fingers touching the soft cotton of his jacket. Her arms shiver on instinct of the chill in the night air. Without thinking, she is bundling the sleeves of his jacket up onto her own, wearing it in a backwards fashion to heat the coldest part of her body. 

She doesn’t even think of it or acknowledge the fact that she had just, once again, stolen his jacket, minutes passing before Stiles’ is climbing the bleacher stairs to return to where they were all sitting. 

It wasn’t until he had sat back down and stuffed his keys in his pocket that he noticed Lydia had swiped his hoodie. His eyes widen, the beginning of a smile creeping at his lips. He forces it down however, instead just nudging her with his elbow so she’d turn to him. She does, smiling at him. “Hm?” she hums, her covered fingers burrowing deeper into the jacket bunched in her hands on instinct. 

His chuckle immediately told her what she needed to know. “Can’t keep your hands off of it, can you?”

At those words she lets her eyes fall to her lap, the blush that overtakes her face warming her right up. She shakes the jacket off her arms and onto his leg, scooting a good two inches farther from him as she nervously laughs. “Uhm, sorry, I was just using it to get a little warmer I didn’t mean to—”

That’s when Scott forces his way between them, throwing his arms over his shoulders. “I want to grab ice cream after this.”

Lydia laughs, grasping onto the perfect subject change. “But it’s freezing outside!”

Stiles smiles along with them, all the while knocking his fingers against the jacket slung over his knee.

-

The fourth time it happens she has to admit: she does it on purpose.

Natalie was out of town for the weekend, attending some conference with a few other teachers and counselors from the school. It would have been the prime opportunity to return to Lydia’s earlier roots and throw a wild party that a lot of freshman would have snuck their way into. However tempting that may have been before though, this time she was just happy to get a few days to herself. 

Well, until she got antsy and invited Stiles over to hang out with her.

“Feeling lonely?” he chuckles as she opens the door for him to slide into her foyer. The first thing she takes note of is his normal dark, soft hoodie. The sleeves were pushed to his elbows, the middle unzipped to hang loosely at his sides, and his hands were stuffed in his front pants pockets. His silhouette standing in her front room was making her stomach do funny flips. 

“Very,” she laughs back, not afraid of the confession. “Wanna watch a movie? I have popcorn ready in my room if the answer is yes.”

His smile is nothing short of wide. “Definitely. But you know I’m only interested in one—“

“ _A New Hope_ is already in my DVD player if that’s what you’re asking.”

His arms give a little start in excitement, eagerly moving toward the staircase before she’s even done speaking. “That’s what I’m talking about, Lyds. I love Scott to death but there’s a reason I choose to hang out with you over him sometimes.”

That makes her heart start doing flips as well, her entire middle section now just throwing about an impressive array of somersaults. She’s happy he’s bounding up the steps in front of her while she follows so he doesn’t have to see the rosy blush attacking her cheeks. 

As they walk into her room he’s already removing the hoodie from his figure, tossing it over the side of her armchair and plopping onto her bed like he owns the place. “Oh man, I need this,” he groans when he sees the opening menu for the movie loaded onto her TV screen. “Thank god for this franchise, man. I don’t know where I’d be without it.”

“You’re so dramatic.”

“Shh.”

She slides onto the bed next to him, the two teenagers lining up their bodies but with nothing touching. She bites her lip at the heat she could feel from him nonetheless, reaching down to tug a blanket onto the mattress with them. “Blanket?” she offers as he grabs for the remote.

Stiles smiles, taking one half of it so they could share. “Thanks.”

Her heart pounded like a drum behind her rib cage, glad that her lights were dimmed so he didn’t see the dopey look on her face. _Get it together, Martin_.

Watching _Star Wars_ with Stiles is always an experience since he always has little comments and facts to say here and there. Since she had the remastered version, he kept pointing out things that weren’t there before or would talk about the comparison of this shot to a shot in a later film. It was adorable and only kind of borderline annoying, but she just giggled any time he had a new thing to say. 

Halfway through he pauses it, sitting up and stretching. “Bathroom break. And kitchen break if necessary. Do you need anything?”

Lydia smiles up at him and shakes her head, watching as he slides off the bed to head to her open door. “I’m okay. Just hurry up, I’m getting sleepy.”

His muted laugh trails back to her as he heads out into her hallway.

Lydia stays laying amongst her pillows and blankets for a few more long moments before she pushes out from under them, getting to her feet to stretch out her stiff body. She goes over to her phone where she’d left it on her desk to check the time when she catches wind of the now-familiar magnetic force she considers Stiles’ jacket to be. 

Her head turns to look it fully in the face, still thrown over her chair in the corner. That little article of clothing had caused her so many weird moments thus far and she almost hated it for that, but she also felt herself wanting to wrap it around her body, to breathe in pure, unadulterated _Stiles_.

And, once again, she finds herself walking over to it and pulling it in her arms. 

It was still warm, if possible, from the never ending body heat that Stiles seems to emit. She smiles softly as she shakes it out to full length, thrusting one arm in and then the other. It almost felt right and natural to have it encompassing her small frame, the shoulders of it bunching up over her own and the way it hung down to the top of her thighs. She pushes the sleeves down to cover her hands so they were curled under the fabric, biting her lip. 

When Stiles comes back into the room, stopping at the doorway, she didn’t hear it more as felt it. Her eyes widen, her back stiffening once she knows she’d been caught. Again. 

Lydia turns around to meet the gaze of the bewildered boy ten feet away from her, doing nothing to remedy the situation and instead huddling the jacket further around her. 

“Lyds, uhm…” he swallows, his deer-in-the-headlights expression slowly moving up and down her body. The more he checked her out, the cloudier his eyes seemed to get. She waited with bated breath, wondering what his reaction was going to be as the look on his face got harder and harder to read.

Finally, when the mask of his face was like stone, he breathes out a sentence that was encased with the thickness of molten lava: “You look so hot.”

The air she was holding rushes out as the words hit her in the pit of her stomach. His face had warped into something dark, something warm, and something so intricately breathtaking that she can’t help but play along. She allows one sleeve of the hoodie to drop down her shoulder, revealing her skin that was concealed by the straps of her top. “Do I?” she asks with hooded eyes, gazing up at him from under thick lashes. 

The groan he releases is all she heard before he’s suddenly pulling her in, leaning down to crash their lips together. Her moans are swallowed as she melts into him, wrapping her arms up under his to grip at his back, trying to press as close to him as she possibly could. His tongue licks its way into her mouth, chasing her own as she feels his fingers grip at the dip of her waist. She felt the air being knocked out of her again and has to slow down, coaxing his fast pace into a lazier one in order to compose herself.

“That was quite the reaction,” she gasps out shortly as his lips pepper across her jaw and down to her neck. Her head tosses back lightly to give him more room, shivering in delight at the feel of his skin against hers. 

“That was quite the little show you gave me,” he murmurs back, licking at her collarbone before returning to full height. 

Lydia’s fingers flutter over his shoulder blades. “I’m sorry I seem to be so obsessed with this jacket.”

Stiles grins, backing her up until her knees knock against the bed. “Please don’t be sorry. The first time I saw you put it on I wanted to see you wear it a thousand times more.”

Her top teeth worry her bottom lip as she gives a flirty smile, smoothing her hands up to his neck and then his face to pull him closer again. “I’ve wanted to as well, apparently,” she breathes against his lips, lightly giving him butterfly kisses every other word. He gives a small noise she couldn’t decipher. 

“All you had to do was ask,” he lathes over her mouth, huddling down over her, bracketing her against the bed with his arms. 

She laughs. “I’ll keep that in mind for next time.”

His only answer to that was a grunt before he presses her into her mattress, their heat swirling around them as they burrow farther into each other. 

Needless to say, the only piece of clothing not thrown onto her floor was that stupid hoodie.


End file.
